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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24732550">Hopeless Romance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllOPsMustSuffer/pseuds/AllOPsMustSuffer'>AllOPsMustSuffer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Experiments, F/M, Hurt Link, LinkisstillherHero, POV Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Swearing, ZeldaisnotyourPrincess, ZeldatheEmotionallyUnavailableTwit, Zelink Week, fasthotfieryexplosiveburn, hopelessromance, whywon’tanyonesayily</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:54:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,595</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24732550</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllOPsMustSuffer/pseuds/AllOPsMustSuffer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Deleted Scene:<br/>The game is up. I grab Link’s collar roughly and pull his face into mine. My eyes are daggers and I see them glinting back at me in his fucking beautiful baby freickin blue eyes. “Link,” I say slowly, with all the menace I can muster. “The only victim here is me. And I’m done killing myself over you.”</p><p>I throw the rest of my mead in his bitch ass face and storm out of the tavern, into the comfortingly cool night. My cheeks are wet, but it's just the rain.</p><p>And that’s a deleted scene! Imagine what made the cut *attempts to wink* *succeeds cause I’m actually really good at winking*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Hope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It’s important to me that you know this is Zelda talking. I didn’t make it first person so you could imagine yourself the focus of Link’s haunting gaze. I wrote it this way so I could have that. Paws off my 2D man.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yeah, he's no conversationalist. That's ok- no need for chatter. I like a good, no-talking activity.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Link and I sat around the fire outside the stable, warding off the chill with the steaming tension between us. </em>
</p><p>Sorry. <b>*ahem*</b></p><p>Link and I sit around the fire outside the stable, cooking shrooms on sticks— scrumptious as always, I think with an eye roll—  and, per usual, not talking. He hums softly to himself as I stare unamused at him, and he at the fire.</p><p>“Link?”</p><p>A slightly changed tone of hm? comes in response. <em> Not even a what, really? </em> And then I realize I don’t have anything to say.  And it’s been a few seconds, like, more than three, so it’s starting to get awkward. <em> Maybe I should just not say anything, and leave him wondering, with the thought of his name lingering on my lips? </em> I decide against it. <em> No way I’d win the silent game against freaking Phantom of the Opera. </em> Instead, I put words together and hope they come out grammatically correct. “Did uh, did you have anything when you woke up in the shrine? I thought about asking to leave some things in a chest for you.”</p><p>Link continues to stare at the fire. <em> Guess it’s hotter than me. </em>“No.”</p><p>“Oh.” <em> Wow. Riveting insight, Zelda. </em>Link is talking. I need to keep it going. “Well, I’m sorry. Not even any armor? Clothes?”</p><p>He looks up this time. “No.” </p><p>I blush as I realize the implication. <em> Nice, Zelda. Just ask the man more pointless and probing questions, why don’t you? </em> And then, “No need to apologize.” And, wait— what? He just spoke. Without me doing it first. But I don’t have anything to say back, so I just sit there. And I get really, really bored.</p><p>Wishing I had a book, a thought suddenly occurs to me. <em> Why can’t this be like a story? </em> And then it hits me. <em> It totally can. </em> <b>*ahem! </b> <b>(again)</b> </p><p>The battlefield is set. My opponent's fortress lies bare in the distance, great stone walls blocking the view of a surely vulnerable person within. I grit my teeth and call my forces to attention. A question blares like war horns in my mind.</p><p>
  <em> Who’s walls would fall first? </em>
</p><p>I stare at Link ~intently~ from across the fire. He holds an illusion of unawareness, even as my army comes marching to his gate. Approaching my catapult, I load a moderately sized boulder— a minor question, but still personal. The cables tense with anticipation. “Link...”</p><p>His gaze glances up to meet mine, suddenly aware of the imminent attack on his defenses. My sword slices through the tension, sending the missile careening into his stare.</p><p>“What do you want to be when you grow up?”</p><p>The stoic wall cracks in the shape of a small smile. The corners of his eyes crinkle. <em> Uh, so cute. </em>The sound of a minor crash finally reaches your offensive line. “Aren’t I?”</p><p>Not the damage I was hoping for. I aim and release again, at the same spot. “Aren’t you what?”</p><p>Crash.</p><p>“Grown up.”</p><p>Slice. Whoosh.</p><p>“Then what do you want to be...” The general's hand held high, stiffly moves forward and down. The volley is cast. My eyes pepper his with questions. “...that you aren’t now?”</p><p>His fortress holds steady under the barrage. But he does not move against my forces.</p><p>“Happy.”</p><p>I scoff. The arrows cease and offense claims my features. “And what do you mean by that? What makes you happy?” That attack was unexpected, even by me. A nameless savior's reinforcements had approached his flanks, bearing my colors.</p><p>His eyes bore into mine. The walls begin to rebuild themselves, cracks fast repairing. But again, he pauses. The moment of vulnerability unsettles me; <em> perhaps preparation for a counterattack? </em>But it never really comes.</p><p>“Love.”</p><p>My army crumbles, disbanded. War won, presently, soldiers return home to fight another day. Their joy seeps into my face. And I laugh.</p><p>I cackle.</p><p>I double over, my enemy forgotten, as a hysteria claims the air in my lungs. “What? What’s so funny?” I can hear the shock creeping into his voice, and while that would normally make my day, I’m overwhelmed by his previous remark. <em> Love?! </em></p><p>The words barely make it out. “I- I just- <em> you </em> ? A hopeless romantic? I never would’ve thought. Priceless!” I laugh again, and smile in spite of his less than amused expression. But my surprise fades as it becomes apparent that he will not return the feeling. <em> Why isn’t he saying anything? </em></p><p>In the end, I wish he hadn’t. “That expression has never made sense to me.”</p><p>I cough when another laugh won’t come, but hide my surprise with a smile. He isn’t changing the subject. I almost mirror his silence, but the bait is too tempting. I am starved for any piece of him. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“Hopeless…  romantic.” He says it slowly, his voice a vibration that shakes my castle walls. His eyes mix with mine. “It takes plenty of hope to be a romantic. To be in love. To fall, willingly, and believe that there will be a happy ending.”</p><p>His gaze holds me and I am utterly still, like I’d been shot ice arrow. In truth, I’m just shocked. Firstly, Link just said a lot of words. And secondly, he’s— <em> wait. He’s leaning, closer oh my god he’s leaning closer we’re very close now aaaaAH— </em>  and when I can almost touch him, he stops. And he smiles. His grin is a volley that shatters my defenses and floods my chest with the ice melt. He stands, breaking eye contact and I am released <em> from whatever god given prison that was. </em> My body feels limp. I breathe. I hadn’t been breathing.</p><p>He turns and walks away from the fire, assumedly toward his bedroll, the location of which I never seem to be informed. His words echo back at me. “You shouldn’t give up so easily. You’ll never win that way.”</p><p><em> What in the hell— </em>I feel as though the very calamity has struck a mortal blow, my chest heavy and my ribs barely supporting a sinking heart. I’m ridiculously sad that he’s gone, even though I’ll see him in the morning. Somehow the fire is just cold without him there.</p><p>I sigh and my shoulders fall in quiet defeat, unbeknownst to my enemy. I am hopelessly in love with Link.</p><p>I can only hope he is in love with me.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Honestly, I feel for her. It's hard letting an ao3 writer pick your lines.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Less</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Link and Zelda can be a real Sam n' Diane. But I think Zelda is more the Sam.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There is a way to test anything. Morning has brought my senses back, and I’ve decided that determining the existence of Link’s feelings, especially any toward me, is a matter of simple experimentation. He either feels as I do or... </span>
  <em>
    <span>well, I’ll go with the hypothesis that he does.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>What are signs of infatuation? There are physical, sure, but physical intimacy can be as much a reflection of wanton desire and sexual need than any real show of... love. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, yeah, shivers. Not lov— nope. I n f a t u a t i o n.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Focus.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Beyond the physical sense, infatuation is often reflected in emotional displays. Actions spurred from a strong emotional reaction, as opposed to reasonable assessment of risk and benefit, were an excellent example. While infatuation on it’s own is a strong emotion, it’s presence tends to modify temperament, making emotions such as anger, jealousy, lust, embarrassment, and the like harder to control. Normally, reactions to feeling these emotions strongly would not definitively indicate infatuation, but Link is notorious for his lack of outward expression. If I could break his stoicism single handedly, the logical conclusion would be his... infatuation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>With me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In other words, I'm going to have to piss off Link. Frustrate him. Tempt him. And maybe embarrass him a little along the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t remember being this excited about an experiment.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>I saunter out of the stable toward Link, wearing tight riding pants and a low collared blouse that doesn’t quite reach my waist. My hair is loose, soft and teasing in the night breeze. I can see him turn scarlet as the blood moon when he sees me, but the lapse in his stoicism is quickly recovered from. Stone lips move. “What, what are you wearing?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh goddess, he makes it too easy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I look at him with as much sincerity as I can muster. “My clothes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Disbelief flashes across his features, but he lets it go. He turns toward town. “Let’s go then.” He is making a point of not looking at me. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Can’t have that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I jog lightly in front of him, hips swaying mockingly and my ass all but bared in the skin tight leggings. I hear a huff of frustration behind me and Link moves to walk by my side. “I’m not racing you to the inn in those clothes. You’ll surely rip a seam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Too easy!</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I’m more flexible than you might think.” His blush is priceless, and I allow myself an innocent giggle. I can feel him glaring, and figure he knows what I’m up to. But the nice thing about experiments: they’re controlled. There’s not a thing he can do about it, not even if he wanted to. I plaster my face with an expression of innocence. I’ve got to at least try— </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything less would be an insult. Too much more might drive him crazy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Finding no apparent mischief, I feel his glare shut off, and hear his chest puff again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, what I would give for a growl.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Focus, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Zelda.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The inn is lively, and Link brushes me aside to take scale of the situation. After surveying the scene to his satisfaction, he quickly pulls me to the nearest open table. We are snugly tucked in the corner of the warm, drunken room. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mhm. Cosy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Really I’m touched at his concern, but my intentions for tonight are not so PC. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I need to drag him out there somehow.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Hey! I thought we were going for drinks at the bar?” I scoff in apparent offense. Luckily, I’m pretty good at faking that. Pretentious princess lessons are finally coming in handy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like a meal.” His eyes bore into the small menu. I smirk. He’s already proving to be subject to my wiles. Perhaps my hypothesis is correct. But I can’t be sure just yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Link, we can’t dance after we’ve eaten! You’ll be way to full if you eat now. Let's grab a drink and have fun before you eat half the menu! Not that’d it’d be all that hard.” Grabbing his hand and smiling playfully, I stand and lean forward just enough to give him an unprecedented view of my cleavage. I can’t help but inwardly sigh as the rounded line steals his eyes for a moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So he </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> human.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Link releases a frustrated huff. “Oh come on, Link-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes barely glance at my breasts. They glance, sure, but it’s in passing. To my frickin’ eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Charmer. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Zelda, we’re just friends. We shouldn’t dance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ouch. I pull back and stand up straight. “We’ve danced before. It’s just for fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another huff. A sigh.“Come on! Liinnggggkkah.” I’m practically dragging him out of the chair. And finally he stands, taking my hand tightly and leading me along the side of the inns tavern to the end of the bar. He calls to the bartender for two honey meads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I roll my eyes. “Honey mead? Not particularly strong, Link.” I chide as I lean opposite to him against the bar, breasts pushed tantalizingly out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t look. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I need to keep a clear head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? And why’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A glance at me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He clears his throat. “I’m feeling, unwell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I put my hand on his arm and pull it across the bar, closer to my chest. “Oh- Link if your not well we can head back to the stable and-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snatches his hand back in an instant, his face turning beet red in the well lit room. “No! No, that’s alright.” He stares intently at the bartop, refusing to look at me again. I can’t blame him— he’s got a strong sense of self-preservation. The meads come sliding across the counter, and his hand anxiously grabs one and throws it back, draining it in seconds. The color drains from his face almost as fast as the mead does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I raise my eyebrows. He’s not usually a drinker. “I’ll try and keep up then.” I say, taking a long draft of the mead. It’s sweet and warm in my throat, and something stirs inside me...</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Focus,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Zelda.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Link stands with some effort and leads me to the cleared center of the room, through sweaty bodies and enthusiastic dancers. He takes my hands gingerly and we... dance? No, this is not dancing. This is standing with some awkward fidgets thrown in. I peer up at him. The question in my voice is genuine. “Link, is something wrong? You’re usually a very good dancer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks down. But his eyes once again catch on my breasts, and he quickly turns his face to the side as his blush returns. He still hasn’t said anything. “Link?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up, and it’s either the mead or my pestering because it seems a sliver of his resolve has come loose. And then we are dancing, and for a moment, I think we both forget the tension between us. And then we are back at the bar, laughing, and drinking something stronger than honey mead. And his hand is on my back and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>suddenly don’t care about the dumb experiment. This is nice for now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But then...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, little lady, this guy bothering you?” A half drunk village idiot approaches me and nods to Link without breaking eye contact. I wish he would. His eyes aren’t all that pleasant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um...” I feel Link’s hand tense against my back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jealousy.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I don’t think I mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man takes that the way I had hoped: as an invitation. “You’re a nice little lady. I’d hate to see you spending the night with a sleeze.” He pushes closer and then his hand is on my shoulder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Woah, didn’t intend for that. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Let me buy you a drink, sweetheart.”</span>
  <em>
    <span> Oh, nope— ew.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Links growl is audible, but the man currently latched to my shoulder like some kind of oversized leech doesn’t take the hint. Out of some uncharacteristic kindness, Link does not floor the man immediately. But I can hear, let alone </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span>, his warning. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And I was right. I would give anything for that growl.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>All thoughts of </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot hot sexy Link </span>
  </em>
  <span>fly from my mind as Suction-Cup-Handsy-Man leans down and whispers to me, in a poor excuse of secrecy, “Seems he’s got a bit of a temper, lass. Come with me if you know what’s good for you.” A glint shines in his eye, and his hand slips to my ass, pressuring me off the bar stool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While I’m sure I didn’t blink, I feel I must have as I see Asshat-Of-The-Night on his feet and then on his back, seemingly in the same moment. The next thing I notice is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> menacing Link, towering over him. I don’t see his lips move, but I hear the words.“Don’t. Touch. Her.” His voice is brittle, like he would snap any second. I’m worried he might. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe this has gone a little too far. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The patrons around us begin to take notice of the tension.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I reach for him. “Link, you didn’t have to-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glowers up at me, the brunt of his anger like a strike to my face. But he notices my shock, and immediately his expression turns to one of— </span>
  <em>
    <span>what? Sadness? </span>
  </em>
  <span>The man on the floor is gone, having used the moment to make his escape. Link, released from the spell of jealousy, slumps onto a bar stool and runs his hand tiredly down his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zelda...” It’s a groan. He’s exhausted. Understandably so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet all I can do is stare back at him, equally confused. He doesn’t seem to notice, taking my silence as indifference. “I can’t, you can’t...”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, we’re getting somewhere.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Link?” I give him my doe eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze hardens.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Whoops— not was I was looking for. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“This, that!” He gestures to the empty stool and floor beside me. “Don’t do that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Definitely not the reaction I had sought. Was he really turning this situation against me? I hadn’t planned to be the conquest of a village drunk this evening. I wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> desperate. “Are you blaming me for what just happened?” My frustration is real this time. And my disbelief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Link’s anger fades as quickly as it came, and he looks hurt. Confused. “What? No-“ He waves his hands as if to mime the answer. “Yes, kinda. I mean, you’re-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now I’m just mad. “I’m. What.” Not mad. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seething.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!” He curses under his breath. “Why do you have to, why can’t you just-“ he sighs again. “Why do you have to make this so hard for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For you?! For. You?!” I let out my breath. I’m exasperated. And then I see an opening, and I lunge for it. I came here for a reason, after all. “What hard for you, Link? Being with me? Does it not make you happy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know it does.” His answer comes quicker than expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I keep my cool. “Then just tell me what you mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he doesn’t. And I won’t. And the bar is loud again, and the music crescendos and people dance. And I am frustrated beyond belief, and all, all I want to do is make him feel it too.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oofta. That was kinda heavy, doc.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Romance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Link is done with Zelda's shit. Everyone gets a little dramatic. It's still raining outside.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>All right folks, time for the finale. Grab your umbrellas, the front row might get a little wet.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I leap into the throng of drinkers and dancers, rubbing up against any muscular man I can find. I can feel the burn of Links eyes on me, drunk with jealousy that stems from a truth he won’t admit to. Then there are more hands on my ass, more men offering me drinks, and it is all the kindness I can muster to gently refuse them. A hand grabs me particularly roughly, but on the arm. I turn to give this one a piece of my mind but we are already moving out the door and into the cold. I am dazed and I turn to admonish the newest cocky bastard, but it’s Link.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he is pissed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow I have the mental capacity to continue with this charade, so I put my hand on my hip and give him that look. You know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Zelda.” he growls. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Um, that sounded nicer in my fantasies.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “You can’t force me into saying—” He glances down at me, his speech forgotten. “For goddess’s sake! Put something over those rags!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’ll admit, I am shivering. It’s fucking cold. But I see where this is headed before he does. “What am I supposed to do? It's not like I have another shirt!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re freezing! This outfit is— well, it barely is!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I throw up my hands. “Fine! Then give me yours!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He isn’t thinking, really, and practically throws his shirt at me, exposing his chest to the night air. I pull the shirt over my head, knowingly, and let it rub against my hair just enough to appear playfully mussed. Looking up at him with mock exasperation, I exclaim, “Better?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Link stares at me with his mouth half open, at a complete loss for words and for once, it's obviously not by choice. Realization mixes with the disturbed R rated thoughts written plainly all over his face. The night air is cold and my decidedly wider chest is tight against his tunic, the wind brushing the seam of it teasingly against the tops of my thighs. I smirk winningly inside as I watch my stoic knight’s resolve dissolve, absolutely no match for my appearance in his clothes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I let the smirk show. “You’ll catch fireflies with an open mouth.” I reach out, intending to brush his jaw with my fingertips, but his hand catches mine. His eyes are tightly shut. A small gasp escapes my lips— his grip is strong, and tense with an emotion I can’t quite sense. Gentle, but firm, and I have no other choice but to wait for him to let go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes finally open and I gather the courage to look straight into them. His blue captures my green like the sea around the land, flooding me with more emotion than I have ever given, much less ever felt. It's overwhelming. I’m not breathing, again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time stops as I feel him. Anger. Jealousy. Lust. Embarrassment. Frustration. All the emotions I sought to cultivate are pouring out of Link and into me, and suddenly, I can’t remember why I had ever desired to cause someone this much pain. Much less this person. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Link.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One feeling underlies the rest. One I didn’t seek. He is hopeless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The words never come to Link. He lets my wrist go, and my hand falls limply to my side. He turns and walks soberly into the darkness, leaving me barren, standing in the waning light and warmth outside the inn. As I watch him go, his bare skin is covered in goosebumps from the cold, and all resolve leaves my body. I fall once more, but not in love. That is not what I am feeling. I am feeling everything I gave him. And I am feeling all of what I have guarded myself against: Despair. Regret. Fear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mud begins to suck the warmth from my skin, but cannot bring myself to move. </span>
  <em>
    <span>When had it started to rain? When did I sit down?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The inn door opens again and a man stumbles out, his foot gutting me as he trips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oi! When did you get there? Move, broad!” His shove is weak. There is no malice in the contact, but sends me crashing back into this world. Standing stiffly, I run into the dark. Running nowhere, just away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My feet pound the damp ground, leaving imprints, marks of cowardice, weakness, deceit. The ground begins to slip, the world losing its balance in my frantic getaway. And then—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“OW!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m flat on my back again, nose throbbing from whatever rock I just smacked into. I open my eyes. It’s a rock of slightly less than average height. The rock turns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m suddenly grateful for the rain, as it masks my shock. I hadn’t just run anywhere— I’d followed the footprints. “Link?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My knight looks down at me, but for once his face isn’t stone. He reaches out, helping me to my feet. I struggle to stand, and the words I need to say are dragging me down, so I let them out. “Link…” He stares.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ily.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His expression changes slightly. Confusion. My heart pounds. </span>
  <em>
    <span>These feelings confuse me too.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I try again. “I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He drops my hand like it’s burning, and backs away down the path. He looks furious, like I’d just kicked Epona. He gives me the worst answer. “No.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My heart breaks. Then boils. “No? No!? What do you mean, no? I don’t recall asking for your permission, Link!” I turn and bare my teeth at the darkness, then turn back, my hands like vices around the space where I wish his throat was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How can he— fuck it. I’m going to hit him where it hurts. “</span>
  </em>
  <span>I suppose you’re just like the rest of them, aren’t you? You think I’m just a silly princess, starved for attention. And now you get the satisfaction of denying me. Of saying, NO.” I spit at his feet. It’s hardly noticed in the downpour. “Are you happy now, Link? Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>in love</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the idea of paying me back for all those awful months spent by my side?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s upon me in a second, hand on my— well, his— collar. His voice is dangerously low. I can feel his hot breath on my cheek as he says “Do you know why I saved you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I roll my eyes, mocking his serious tone. “It’s your destiny and you’re just sOoOo PERFECT—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” His voice is a command. It catches me off guard, and I shut my mouth. “Why did I save you? You remember. You were there— it was a lot like this night, now. You were the fabled princess, an unstoppable force: our savior. I couldn’t win </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> fight. You could. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So why did I die to protect you?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” His eyes bore into mine, searching for my answer. But I’m lost. I can’t speak. I don’t know the answer. “I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tearing away his gaze and his grip, Link runs his fingers frustratedly through his soaked hair, slicking it back. Turning away from me, he shouts into the trees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Because I didn’t care!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He spins back around to me, and I take a wary step back. But the anger has been let out— he’s just desperate now. I can see it in his eyes. “I didn’t want to live.” I feel his words in my heart, and just the thought of him dying begins to kill me. His next statement brings me back without warning. “Not if you died.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice is soft, and coming back toward me, he continues. “I can bear it. I can bear being behind you, silent. I can bear my death. But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot </span>
  </em>
  <span>bear your love, Zelda. Not if it’s fleeting. Not if it’s a ruse to befriend me.” His eyes speak more than his mouth, and its pain in every word. “You’re father knew what he was doing when he assigned me to protect you. He knew that I would die a thousand times to save your life. I wish I </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> died that day, so that I wouldn’t have to look at you, and wish every moment that I had been born a prince or you a peasant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My hands move on their own to hold his. He’s close enough, so I take his arms and pull him closer. I’ve heard everything I need. There’s just one problem left. “Link, can you forgive me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs out a response. I can feel his warm breath again. “For what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For being so blind.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I don’t let him respond. Sealing his lips with my own, I hope I am enough. As we break apart, my name escapes him. “Zelda…” I wait for his words. I wait for him to return my heart in three simple words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I throw the lifeline. “Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you like breakfast?” He burns it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What? Time to slap the shit out this b—</span>
  </em>
  <span>  “Oh, and I love you. Too.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Okay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I felt instant relief, but my features were a moment behind. I stared incredulously at the bastard before me with all the terror I could muster. And then I slapped him, albeit halfheartedly, across the face. He cries out, “Hey! I just said—” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t care</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sealing his evil mouth with my own again, I shut Link up as best I can. For once I’m thankful he’s not talkative by nature.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As we break for air, his chest rises and falls deeply, trying to get air. His cheeks are pink. “Hey, hey, let’s take it </span>
  <em>
    <span>eASY</span>
  </em>
  <span>-“ This time my kiss pushes him over, flat on his back. I stare him down from </span>
  <em>
    <span>my rightful position on top </span>
  </em>
  <span>with all the confidence of a Hyrule queen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has the audacity to speak. “Loving you will be the death of me.” And I quip back, “Oh don’t worry.” I pause, letting him hang a moment. “You’re worth more to me alive.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Smirks all around.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We laugh and get up to make omelettes. Because everyone fucking loves omelettes.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>That's all, folks! *jazz hands*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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